The Panther and The Pearl (23 page)

He looked down at her as he carried her over the worn path to the beach. “When we weren’t arguing,” he said ruefully.

Sarah nuzzled into the solid warmth of his body. Why couldn’t he always be like this? When he wasn’t trying to dominate or control her he could be so... nice.

He reached a level spot on the sand and flung the blanket out, then set her down on it. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

He climbed up the hill and returned with a reed basket. He dumped it on the blanket and then sprawled full length next to her, sighing luxuriously. Sarah studied his long lean legs encased in the tight trousers and then looked away.

“What’s in there?” Sarah asked, pointing to the basket.

“Food.”

“Oh, a picnic! I missed my last one.”

“When was that?”

“On the outing to the bazaar. We were supposed to have a picnic on the way back.”

“But you, of course, had more important things to do,” he said dryly.

“Do we have to talk about that now? It could lead to another disagreement.”

“I’m not going to disagree with you any more,” he said, in a tone of resignation Sarah had never heard him use. She looked at him sharply, wondering what he meant.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, changing the subject. “I checked this menu with Doctor Shakoz, it’s all approved invalid food.”
 

“What’s that insignia on the clasp of the basket? I’ve never seen it before,” Sarah said.

“Oh, the animal depicted there is a leopard in the black phase. A panther, you would say in English. It’s the old Greek word for the Shah family,
leontopardus
.”
 

“Who called you that?”

“The Greeks who were always trying to conquer us.”

“I’ll bet they never did.”

He grinned. “You’re right.”

“Panther. Its suits you. Dark and lithe and dangerous,” Sarah said softly.

He reached for the basket and winced.

“Is your shoulder still bothering you?” Sarah asked.

“Not often, only now and again. My permanent gift from the bedouins.”

“Why did they shoot you? I never asked.”

“They’re always shooting somebody,” he said wearily. “They identify me with the government so I’m a target.”

“They don’t like the government?”

“They don’t like anyone trying to collect taxes from them. They’re nomads, gypsies. They roam from district to district and answer to no one. The Sultan is always trying to pin them down and assign tithes, and in this area I’m the Sultan’s man.” He handed her an envelope of pita bread filled with vegetables. “They make good bread, though,” he said, and grinned.

Sarah accepted the sandwich and took a bite, watching him uncork a bottle of boza and pour the liquid into two tumblers. “Are the bedouins Turks?” Sarah asked.

He shook his head. “Arabs. That’s the problem. They don’t consider themselves subjects of the Empire, a situation the Sultan would like to change.”

“Where do they get pistols?”

“They steal them, barter for them, raid caravans for them. They do whatever is necessary to get arms. That’s why they’re so dangerous to the Sultan.”

“What do you think of him?” Sarah asked.

“The Sultan?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, he’s a scoundrel.”

Sarah giggled.

“What’s funny?”

“You have the same opinion of him that I do. Doesn’t it bother you that he’s your...” she stopped.

“Boss?” Kalid suggested, and they both laughed.

“Well, yes,” Sarah said.

Kalid shrugged. “He doesn’t disturb me much in Bursa. I make my required state visits and pay enough duties to keep him off my back, so he lets me run my district my way.”
 

“You were on a state visit when I first saw you,” Sarah said.

“And I saw you,” he replied simply. “Which brings me to the subject of this little trip.” He took a long swallow of his drink and then said, “I have decided to let you go.”

Chapter 10

Sarah couldn’t have been more stunned if he had slapped her.

“Let me go?” she said stupidly.

“Yes. I’m giving you what you want, what you’ve always wanted since you came here. I did a lot of thinking while you were ill and came to a hard conclusion. As soon as Doctor Shakoz says that you are fully recovered and well enough to travel I will bring you to the American Embassy myself.”

Sarah stared at him. “You once said that you would never give me up.”

“I once said too many damn things,” he replied darkly.

“Why did you change your mind?”

“For two reasons. The first is that what I wanted has not happened.”

“What did you want?”

“I wanted you to fall in love with me.”

Sarah looked back at him, listening, too shocked to say another word.

“I thought if I kept you here long enough and spent time with you...well, you know what I thought,” he went on evenly. “But I either overestimated my charm or underestimated your determination. You have demonstrated more than once that I cannot force my will upon you. So. It is kismet, and I accept.”

“What’s the second reason?” Sarah asked quietly, hardly able to believe her ears.

“You almost lost your life here, because of me. This is not a safe place for you. Your poisoning opened my eyes to my own folly. I would rather have you alive and well and teaching in Boston than dead in my harem. You should go home.”

“It was Fatma who poisoned me, not you, Kalid. And she’s gone now.”

“For a woman in your position there will always be another Fatma,” he said.

“My position?”

“The beloved of the pasha,” he replied.

Sarah looked away from him, too moved to speak. Why was he saying these things now? Because he had already decided that it was too late?

“An Eastern woman would be able to survive the intrigues of the harem,” he went on. “After your first encounter with Fatma you vowed that you would fight her on her own terms, but instead you almost died. You are too...straightforward, Sarah. You can’t resort to deceit and trickery, not even to save yourself. The Ottoman Empire is not for you. And neither, apparently, am I.”

“How long have you known this?”
 

“I suppose I’ve known it all along, but I resisted accepting the situation. I thought if I had time, I could...”

“What?” she prompted.

“Win you over?” he said, with a smile that indicated how foolish that idea had been. “But it was not to be. So now you will be a virgin bride for your American husband.”
 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t have an American husband.”

“You will,” he said shortly, not looking at her.

“Why did you bring me here to tell me this?” Sarah asked, undone by his resigned attitude. He was like a different person, not the one she had known.

“I wanted to spend a last afternoon with you. It will give me something to remember.”

“How long will I remain in the harem?”

“Until Doctor Shakoz releases you from his care. A few days, I should think.”
 

There didn’t seem to be anything left to say.

Neither one of them was very hungry.

“Are you ready to go back?” Kalid asked.

Sarah nodded.

He tossed everything back into the hamper and took her up to the carriage.

Sarah couldn’t understand why she felt like crying all the way back to the palace.

“Leaving!” Memtaz said, amazed. “No one leaves the harem unless they are sold. Or die.”

“Well, I’ve been given my walking papers,” Sarah said.

“What means this? What papers?”

“It means that the pasha is bringing me to the American Embassy as soon as I’m well enough to go.”

Memtaz looked very sad, her small face crumpling. “I will miss you terribly, mistress. But I am happy that you are getting what you want. You must be joyful to know that you will soon be returning to your country.”

Sarah said nothing. She didn’t feel very joyful.

“I thought you would be growing old with us,” Memtaz said, stacking pieces of jewelry in a box and setting it on the ikbal’s vanity table.

Soon it would belong to someone else.

Sarah didn’t want to think of Kalid with another favorite, even if it wasn’t Fatma.

“It will be difficult to have a new mistress,” Memtaz said, tears welling. “I will always think of you that way.”

Sarah patted the maid’s shoulder, unable to think of a single comforting thing to say. What could she tell Memtaz, that she would write?

Even if such a thing were possible, the little servant could not read.

The khislar appeared in the doorway of Sarah’s antechamber, his face solemn.

“My master requests the presence of the ikbal,” he said.

Sarah looked at Memtaz. What fresh torture was this?

“When?” Sarah said.

“Now.”

Sarah followed the khislar through the halls of the palace to the mabeyn and into Kalid’s suite. The eunuchs assigned to her waited outside the pasha’s door.

Kalid turned from his window as she entered. He was wearing a loose, dark blue cotton shirt and gray trousers that complemented his dusky coloring, the open collar of the shirt revealing the long, slender lines of his muscular throat.
 

He had never looked more attractive to Sarah. Was this because she knew she was leaving?

“You’re very prompt,” he said quietly.

“I saw no reason to delay.”

“I have something for you.”

“You’ve given me quite enough already.”

“This is special. I think you’ll like it much better than harem jewelry.”

Sarah watched as he withdrew a package wrapped in paper from a drawer. He handed it to her silently.

“Open it,” he said, when she stood with it in her hands, unmoving, looking at him.

Sarah obeyed, smiling when she saw that it was a copy of Twain’s “
Life on the Mississippi.
”

“I told you I would get it for you,” Kalid said. “Look inside the cover.”

Sarah lifted it and saw that the flyleaf was inscribed, “Samuel Langhorne Clemens.”

“It’s a signed first edition,” Sarah said, amazed.

“Signed with his real name,” Kalid added.

“How did you find this?”

He smiled.

“Oh, yes. I forgot. You can get anything you want for the right price.”

“Except you,” he said, holding her gaze.

Sarah didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know if I should accept this,” she finally managed.

“Why not?”

“It just doesn’t seem right.”

“Because you’re leaving?”

“Among other reasons.”

“I want you to have something to remember me by,” he said quietly.

“I won’t need this to remember you,” she said.

“You’d rather forget me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You will forget me when you go back to the United States,” he persisted, watching her closely. “You will go back to your former life and after a while your time here will seem like a dream, a troubled dream from which you were glad to awaken.”

“I won’t go back to my former life,” Sarah said softly, shaking her head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have changed.”

“Did I change you?”

“My feelings for you changed me.”

They were standing facing one another, like debaters in a secondary school classroom.

“How?” he said huskily.

“You were my introduction to...” she stopped.

“Passion?” he suggested.

“If you want to put it that way.”

“Is there another way to put it, kourista?” he asked with a wry smile.

“I suppose not.”

“Do you think you will ever regret that we didn’t make love?” he asked.

“We did make love,” she said, flushing.

“You know what I mean.”

“I already regret it.”
 

He crossed the distance between them and took her chin in his hand, turning her face up to his.

“What are you saying?” he demanded.

“Just that when I finally do...sleep...with a man, I won’t feel the same way about him as I feel about you.”

“You expect that your husband will be boring?”

“I expect that he won’t be you,” she said quietly.

He put his arm around her and drew her into the curve of his shoulder, nuzzling her hair. “You are undoubtedly the most impossible woman I have ever met. How do you expect me to keep my hands off you when you say something like that?”